Runaway

“How come you’re going home?” she asked, after a long moment.

“It sure as hell isn’t my first choice,” he said harshly. “But Pa’s pretty bad off. Ma wrote me a letter, sent it to the last place I worked. I tried to keep Ma up on where I was, a couple of times a year, anyway. She said in the letter that Pa had taken a bad spell out in the field and just didn’t get over it. His heart acts funny, fluttering and making him lose his breath sometimes.”

“Did she ask you to come home?”

He nodded. “My brothers are both married now and have their own fields to work. Farmers can’t be runnin’ back and forth all the time to somebody else’s place to lend a hand. And my sister ran off and married a scallywag a few years ago. My mother was pretty cut up about that.”

“It sounds like you’ll be a homebody for sure, once you get there.” Her eyelids were getting heavy and the words she spoke were slurred. She yawned widely, covering her mouth with one hand, shifting to lie on her side.

Will looked down at her. “Homebody?” His laugh was harsh. “I’m not cut out to be a farmer.”

Cassie’s eyes flew open at his rasping tone. “Then why go? Why take me there?”

His hand silenced her anxious query. “I guess I owe it to my mother to lend a hand. She was always there for me when things got tough, with Pa on my tail all the time. You’ll be all right. My mother’ll take to you. There’s always room for another hand, helpin’ around the house and doin’ chores.” Cassie would probably be more welcome than he would, at that. There’d be hell to pay, with him and Pa in the same house.

Cassie looked up with sleepy eyes. “I doubt your mother will be pleased to see me coming. Not after we’ve been traveling together.”

“I don’t see that I have much choice right now,” he muttered. “You sure aren’t capable of headin’ out on your own.”

What he’d do with her once he got her home was another question, one he wasn’t ready to examine too closely tonight For one thing, he never should have kissed her. For all the good it had done him. She was about as innocent as they came, with her talk about rabbits. And then there was Pa. Ornery and miserable as the day was long. He’d give them both a hard time. The old resentment welled up within him, lending harshness to his voice. “Go to sleep, Cassie. Between you and that damn mare and those two bas—” He took a deep breath. “Just go to sleep, hear?”

He turned from her, hauling the edge of the blanket over his shoulder.

Wide-eyed, Cassie repeated his words within her mind. I don’t see that I have much choice right now…you aren’t capable…between you and that damn mare… She bit at her lip, fearful of whimpering aloud as the words he’d spoken clamored in her head. Turning away, she stifled any sound she might make, burying her face in the blanket.

With a final look around the edges of the clearing he’d chosen for the night, Will settled down, his gun next to his head, his hat half covering it. Just as well she’d turned away. He shouldn’t have been so short with her, he thought ruefully. His fingers itched to lose themselves in her tangled curls, and he shifted on the hard ground, his discomfort growing. As long as he could keep his randy hands to himself, they ought to get along for the next six days. Long enough to get them through Oklahoma and well into Missouri. Maybe he could hurry her along a little and make it in five.

* * *

The new mare dumped her twice on the second day. From her prone position, Cassie muttered words she’d only heard before, aware of a stone beneath her bottom, another lodged against her rib. Other than that, the ground was just rock hard all over, and her groan was heartfelt.

“Damn, girl!” Will was off the stallion and at her side, reins clutched in his hand. “At least she didn’t run off like last time,” he said, eyeing the mare. The brown creature stood just a few feet away, placid in her grazing. “You all right, Cassie?”

She sat up, rubbing at the bruised spot on her rib, her arm bending at an awkward angle to accomplish the task. “I don’t think I broke any bones.”

Will’s hand brushed her fingers aside and he felt the spot carefully, a distracted look on his face as he traced the rib. “I don’t feel a break, Cass.” He squatted next to her, his fingers itching to brush the disheveled hair from her face, his mouth fighting a smile as he listened to her grumbling.

“Dratted horse just wanted to taste the grass,” she mumbled. “Couldn’t wait till we stopped for the night, could she?”

“Yeah, well, I think we’re gonna ride on, Cass. I’d just as soon put some miles behind us tonight.” His gaze traveled over Cassie’s head, measuring the trail ahead to where it eased atop a shallow rise, disappearing over the crest of the hill. He’d come across the scant trail early this morning, passing through a small town at noontime, well into Oklahoma Territory.

They’d halted there just long enough to buy Cassie a pair of boots, more fit for a young boy than a woman, but suited to the trail.

Now she eyed the sturdy leather footwear as she sat on the ground, hoping the raw spot on her heel wasn’t a blister, wishing for a moment for the soft comfort of the moccasins she’d given up for the protection of boot leather. “I can go farther,” she told Will, lifting herself to her feet, limping a little as she took a few steps.

The mare lifted her head, her ears retreating to plaster themselves against her head, her eyes daring Cassie to disrupt her meal.

“Talk to her, Cass,” Will said beneath his breath, rising and walking at an angle from the mare.

“What a pretty baby!” Crooned in a singsong voice, the words eased the mare’s disquiet, her ears twitching a bit. “Why don’t you just stand there and be a good girl?” Cassie smiled determinedly at the animal, aware of Will’s stealthy, circuitous route as he led his stallion beyond the mare.

And then he had her. Catching the reins in one hand, the bridle in the other, he quieted the brown animal’s snort, holding her firmly lest she bolt again.

“Think you can manage a few more hours, Cass?”

She nodded, wincing as she stepped up to the mare. “I’ll be fine.” Lifting her left foot to the stirrup, she hoisted herself atop the saddle, gritting her teeth as she settled within the leather cradle.

Chapter Four (#ulink_03458181-58dc-51e9-ad2d-bba3251a8af0)

The small cabin was a welcome sight. A ramshackle building, it was nestled beneath a willow tree next to a small stream. In Cassie’s present state, it might well have been a palatial mansion.

The sky above promised nasty weather, and the smattering of cold raindrops she’d ridden through in the past few minutes had already managed to thoroughly wet Cassie’s shirt. It was enough to dampen her spirits. More than enough.

She shivered, staggering toward the small log shack, just a few steps ahead of Will. One foot snagged on a root, half overgrown with grass and hidden from view, and she stumbled, falling to her knees.

Her head bent, she breathed deeply, then shoved herself to her feet, only to find Will’s big hand clutching her elbow, propelling her forward. Her feet dragged, scuffing across the small porch, Will slowing his steps a bit to accommodate her slower pace. He followed her through the doorway, steering her with a decided lack of gallantry. One arm filled with saddlebags, the bundles from the mule across his shoulder, he edged past her into the dim interior, dropping his burdens just inside.

Cassie met his gaze, attempting a smile of reassurance, her lips trembling as a chill swept over her. “I’ll be fine once I warm up a little,” she said stoutly, rubbing her hands together, all too aware of cold skin and stiff fingers that resisted her attempts.

Will nodded, a flicker of doubt tracing his features as he brushed past her toward the doorway. “I’ll take care of the animals. See if there’s any wood for a fire, will you?” Ducking his head in an automatic motion, he headed back outside, his stride more energetic than Cassie could fathom. The man never seemed to run out of strength.

Riding throughout the night, she’d dozed off more than once, allowing her horse to slow to a walk, falling behind Will as he set a steady pace. His patience had been commendable, Cassie decided. He’d waited for her, neither hustling her along nor fussing at her when she slumped over the saddle horn, half-asleep.

Now she watched as he led the animals to where a pump promised water. A few vigorous movements of the long handle made that idea a vain hope, and Will reached for his water pouch, tilting it to drain the contents into the top of the pump. His mouth curved in a smile of satisfaction as the priming gained results. With a few swift up-and-down movements of the narrow handle, he had a steady stream pouring in abundance from the spout, into the wooden trough beneath.

Their noses bobbing in the water, the three animals drank deeply, then, blowing noisily, they sprayed, tossing their heads. Will stepped back to escape their antics, grinning at their good spirits.

“Are we going to spend the night here?” Cassie asked from the doorway.

“We don’t have a lot of choice right now,” Will answered. His hand lifted to gesture at the leaden sky. “Looks like we’re in for it. The wind’s comin’ up pretty steady.”

Cassie nodded. Getting caught in the rain would be miserably uncomfortable as far as she was concerned. Even this crude shelter was better than being out in the open at the mercy of a spring storm. Wrapping her arms around herself for warmth, she turned to where a fireplace yawned against the far wall of the small cabin. A scattering of wood promised the beginnings of a fire, but not much more. She dropped to her knees on the hearth, gathering the kindling and piling it loosely.

Will’s bundle must surely hold more matches. Quickly she loosened the folds and searched for the small container she’d seen in his hands that first night. It held sulphurtipped matches, safe from the damp, and she lit one carefully, holding it to the brittle kindling. It sparked, then caught, and a small flame sprang into being. Carefully she placed another fragile stick over the glowing wood, smiling as it caught fire. One piece at a time, she fed the flames until every scrap of wood from the floor surrounding her was piled inside the wide mouth of the fireplace.

Her fingers were finally warmed, and she rubbed them together, glorying in the heat. One hand lifted languidly to brush at her cheek, where wayward tendrils fell forward, her untended hair loosening from its braid. Then she sat back on her heels, gathering the warmth to herself, reluctant to leave the small haven of comfort.

It was there he found her, kneeling before the small blaze she tended, her unruly hair and smudged cheeks those of an urchin. And yet there was about her an allure he could not fathom. The soft line of her cheek, lashes shadowing the pale flesh, the profile of feminine curves as she lifted her hand to brush at a wisp of dark hair. Her arm lifting high pulled at the fabric of her shirt, its soft weave revealing the swell of her breast.

He inhaled sharply, pierced by his awareness of the woman kneeling before him. His eyes narrowed as his gaze slid up over the generous curve of her bottom to where her waist was cinched with the length of belt he’d given her.

Desire, hot and consuming, drenched him in its depths. The heat of his arousal was immediate, from the flaming ridge across his cheekbones to the throbbing warmth in his groin. His breath caught again, a rasping sound that drew her attention, and she turned, her eyes wide and startled, as if he’d drawn her from a dream.

As women went, she was far from the most seductive he’d ever seen. Hell, she wasn’t much more than a child, all innocent and unknowing, her face smudged, her eyes anxious, her mouth soft and inviting as she opened it to speak.

“Will?” Hastily she rose, brushing her hands together, then wiping them against the sides of her denim pants. “I was about to go out and gather more firewood.” She hesitated, uneasy as she searched his face, her fingers clenching into fists. Poised as if for flight, she looked away from him, to the doorway, then beyond, where the long branches of the willow beside the house swept the ground.

“The wind’s coming up,” she said in a wispy, small voice, sidling toward the open doorway. “I’d better look for wood before we get a downpour.”